


Starstruck

by Jain



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Boys in Skirts, Chromatic Source, First Time, M/M, POV Third Person, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-06
Updated: 2010-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-08 23:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/pseuds/Jain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yasu's a fan of the Takarazuka Revue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starstruck

The theatre was hot and humid from the worst of the August heat combined with the press of the closely-packed audience, yet Yasu shivered when the orchestra began to play. His reaction was less in response to the music itself, beautiful as it was, than it was anticipation for what was to come. And then the curtain parted, and the audience held its collective breath.

The play was the same one as he'd seen the previous Thursday, though that wouldn't ordinarily lessen his excitement. As it turned out, however, a casting change made the last performance he'd seen fade almost entirely from his memory. The male lead this evening was a new one, and Yasu found it impossible to look anywhere else.

"Such elegance, such beauty," the women standing on either side of Yasu sighed, and he nodded his agreement before he knew he'd meant to respond. The otokoyaku was a little taller than her co-stars, with flawless features and a sweet, husky singing voice. She drew the eyes of everyone in the house to her, and the smile that played across her pink, pink lips showed that she knew it.

It seemed incredible that Yasu had never taken notice of her while she'd been playing bit parts; even the way she walked across the stage commanded attention, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Her height helped a little, and of course her looks: too beautiful for a man, too slim and straight for a woman. Mostly, though, it was an irrational yet undeniable feeling that Yasu had once read marked the truly great actresses, a sense that there was a fire burning within her, powerfully and seductively drawing the audience towards her to warm themselves in the flames.

Just before she exited the stage, she looked out at the audience and _winked_, and Yasu felt a shocking dart of desire. It took him a minute to even realize that the audience was applauding the performance, and another before he managed to stop feeling so shaken and join in.

* * *

Yasu briefly harbored vague notions of standing outside the back entrance to the stage at the next performance, perhaps with a letter to press into the otokoyaku's hand as she walked past, but he knew that he had no chance. There would be a crowd--there always was--and he would likely be the only man in it. To go that one step further and show his public appreciation for an otokoyaku rather than one of the pretty, girlish musumeyaku... Yasu couldn't even imagine having that brand of courage.

And if he _could_ find the courage, what would it net him? Nothing but the amusement and disdain of an actress whom he loved more for the part she played than for herself. In that respect, he was no different than any woman in the audience, captivated by the illusion of manly perfection. No, he would attend as many performances as he could afford on his clerk's pay, as always, and that and his dreams would have to content him.

Decided on this course of action, a stray glance into a teashop as he ran a midday errand was enough to have Yasu tripping over his own feet as he came to a sudden halt. He peered more closely through the window but, rather than resolving into a figment of his imagination as he'd expected, the figure was now even more firmly identifiable as the otokoyaku who had been preoccupying his thoughts. As he watched, she lifted a small cake to her mouth for a bite, then followed it with a sip of tea.

Yasu wouldn't be an Osakan if he didn't recognize opportunity when he saw it. He hadn't eaten lunch yet, and his wallet contained just enough yen for a small but hopefully serviceable token of appreciation. He hurried to a shop a few doors down, made his selection, and rushed back, worried all the while that she'd vanish before his return.

She hadn't. Yasu took a deep breath and stepped into the teashop, nodding to the waitress and walking over to the otokoyaku's table before the waitress could attempt to seat him.

"Excuse me," he said, bowing, and the otokoyaku lifted her eyes to look at him with polite interest. "I saw your performance last night," Yasu continued. "It was very..." he trailed off, unable to describe how strongly her performance had touched him, and shook his head. "I hope that you'll accept this."

The otokoyaku took the scarf he held out to her, the fabric a delicate pink that mirrored her cheeks and lips, and smiled faintly. "Thank you," she said. "Would you like to have a seat?"

"If it's not any trouble," Yasu said, already sliding into the chair across from her.

"Of course not," she said. "Would you care for some tea, or a cake?"

"I've already eaten, thank you," Yasu lied. He couldn't accept her food without offering to pay the bill--even without his eating it, he felt an almost guilty compulsion to do so--but the scarf had exhausted his funds.

"Are you a frequent theatre-goer?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. I go to Takarazuka almost every week. Sometimes more than once."

"So do I," the otokoyaku said, her voice so sweet and mild that it took Yasu several moments to catch the joke. He laughed, and the otokoyaku smiled charmingly at him.

"My name's Yasuda Shota, but most people call me Yasu," he said.

"You can call me Hoshiyo."

A stage name, no doubt, but it suited her. Even in this mid-priced teashop in downtown Osaka, far from the glamor of the stage and its manifold artifices, Hoshiyo shone with a rare light.

"Are you planning to attend the performance this Saturday evening?" Hoshiyo asked, after another sip of her tea.

"You'll be performing again?"

"Yes, I will."

"Then I'll definitely be there. I could even take you to dinner afterwards, if you like," Yasu said.

An unidentifiable expression flickered through Hoshiyo's eyes, and then she said, sounding a little regretful, "It'll be very late then."

Yasu felt his cheeks heat, realizing suddenly what his invitation must have sounded like. "Sorry. Of course it will be. Would lunch on Sunday be better for you?"

She blinked at him, apparently surprised at his easy acquiescence. "Lunch?" Yasu held his breath, and then she continued, "Yes, lunch would be lovely, thank you."

Yasu grinned, and she gave him a gracious smile in response, then took the last sip of her tea.

"I shouldn't keep you," Yasu said, even though all he wanted was to sit just a little longer in her presence.

"I do have to get back to Takarazuka soon," Hoshiyo agreed.

They made quick arrangements to meet at the train station next Sunday, and then Yasu left, hurrying back to work and feeling fundamentally uncertain as to whether he was really awake or only dreaming all of this.

* * *

Yasu managed not to pace too obviously as he waited for Hoshiyo's train to arrive, but it was a near thing. Luckily, the train wasn't late. Hoshiyo stepped off, her eyes scanning the small crowd, and then lit up a little as she spotted him. "Good afternoon," she said, when Yasu came up to her.

She was a little taller than he was, now that they met each other standing, but they both pretended not to notice. "Good afternoon," Yasu answered. "Are you hungry? I thought that we could go for udon, if you like."

"All right."

The restaurant Yasu led her to was near to the train station and delicious. Unfortunately, it was also crowded and noisy and rather too warm for comfort. Yasu watched over Hoshiyo a little anxiously as they pushed their way to the back of the room and secured seats.

"This probably isn't what you're used to," he said regretfully.

Hoshiyo raised her eyebrows at him, then shook her head. "I grew up right here in Osaka, you know. I might play heroes and princes on the stage, but I'm not a stranger to this town."

"The Takarazuka Revue school is strict with its students, though, isn't it? And you must have been a student there for quite a while."

"For two years," Hoshiyo agreed. "That doesn't mean that I didn't get into a little mischief before I entered the school." She gave him a small, wicked smile. "Or afterwards, even."

"Sounds like my own school days," Yasu said, grinning back at her.

"You're not a student now, though?"

"No, I work at a dry goods store just a few doors down from the teashop where we met."

Hoshiyo nodded politely, but Yasu imagined he could sense her disinterest, and he felt compelled to add, "I'd thought of being a performer when I was younger. A comedian. But my older sister was a bit sickly when she was younger, and my family couldn't afford to let me choose anything so uncertain as a career."

"Osaka is a good city to live in for anyone who enjoys theater, not only for performers. And I'm not saying that just because I want you to keep buying tickets to the Revue every week."

"Even if you _did_ mean it like that, you needn't worry about insulting me," Yasu said, laughing. "I love the Revue far too much to stay away."

Their bowls of udon arrived just at that moment, and in the midst of the commotion, Yasu almost missed Hoshiyo saying, "So do I. Oh, so do I."

* * *

"I feel a little selfish taking up so many of your Sunday afternoons," Hoshiyo said the next week, as the two of them were walking down a wide path in Tennouji Park. "Your lady friends must feel neglected."

Yasu wanted to point out that two Sunday afternoons couldn't be termed "many," but that would be ignoring the fact that he _wanted_ there to be more afternoons with Hoshiyo. So, instead, he simply said, "I don't really have any lady friends."

"I'm sure that's not so," Hoshiyo said, smiling politely.

"It's very peaceful here," she said a little later, pausing by an ornamental bridge, looking for all the world like the image on a picture postcard.

Yasu stared at her, entranced, and then cleared his throat and said, "Everyone turns out to see the cherry blossoms, but almost no one comes here to enjoy the flowers in late summer. I think they're even more beautiful, though."

"The effect is different," Hoshiyo said. "Cherry blossoms are lovely because there are so many of them. A single cherry blossom is only beautiful because you can look at it and remember the trees covered with thousands of them, and the showers of petals that fall every time the wind blows. These flowers, though. Each one is perfect on its own. But that also means that you have to really look at each flower to enjoy its beauty, while the cherry blossoms give you an almost unconscious pleasure."

There was a bench further down the path, which gave them the opportunity to put her advice into practice. Yasu brushed some stray leaves off the bench for her before Hoshiyo took a seat.

The air was rich with the scent of competing fragrances, the flowers around them full-blown and extravagant with their beauty. "We could go to Osaka Castle Park next week," Yasu suggested.

Hoshiyo shook her head a little, and he hurried to say, "Or we could go out for okonomiyaki. I know a wonderful place for it."

"Your lady friends..." she murmured.

"Of whom I have none," he said. "You're the only lady I see like this. You're the only one I _want_ to see."

She smiled at him, so sweetly and sadly that Yasu knew at once she was going to break his heart. "I don't know if--"

"_Please_," he said. Hoshiyo blinked at him, obviously startled by the rare vehemence in his voice. "I'm not expecting...anything, really." A breath of self-deprecating laughter for how very true that was, and for reasons that Hoshiyo would likely never be aware of. "But I am _very_ glad to have met you, and to know you even a little bit, and I don't want you to disappear."

Hoshiyo dropped her eyes, but not before he saw the tears beginning to fill them. "You love an illusion, not me."

"Am I speaking to an illusion now?"

A tear splashed onto the lap of her kimono, and then another one, and Yasu fumbled hastily for a handkerchief that he pressed into her hand. "A little, yes," Hoshiyo said waveringly, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief.

Yasu's own eyes were burning by this point--seeing someone cry almost always set him off, too, especially when that someone was as tragically beautiful as Hoshiyo--and he spared a wish for a second handkerchief. But he didn't have one, so he just sniffled determinedly and said, "Well, so am I a bit of an illusion. So is everyone. You're not the first person in the world to have a few secrets, you know."

Hoshiyo just sobbed quietly into her handkerchief. After a long moment of indecision, Yasu reached out to take her hand, and Hoshiyo clutched back with surprising strength in her long, elegant fingers.

"If your tears are for something I've done, then you _should_ forget about me," Yasu said. "But if they aren't, then you should keep being my friend, and I'll do my best to make you happy."

Hoshiyo made a soft sound in response, not quite a word, and he added, "I was almost a manzai comedian, you know. I have credentials."

That made Hoshiyo give a watery laugh, and Yasu grinned. "Can I see you again?" he asked.

There was a brief silence, and then Hoshiyo nodded abruptly. "All right," she said, and Yasu held her hand until she stopped crying.

* * *

Between her kimonos and the various costumes Hoshiyo wore during each performance, Yasu had seen her in more outfits than he could easily count. Even so, it was a surprise when he went for a walk one day and saw a woman in a stylish Western dress down the road who turned out to be Hoshiyo, walking gracefully towards him on high-heeled shoes.

"How did you find me?" he asked, curious, when they were standing face to face. It was overcast, yet she dazzled even without the sun to illuminate her face and figure; Yasu felt a little breathless just looking at her.

"What makes you think I was looking for you?" Hoshiyo teased.

"Arrogance," he admitted, and Hoshiyo laughed behind the cover of her hand.

"You can't be _too_ arrogant, because it's true," she said. "I went to the store where you work and asked where I could find you, and the owner sent me here."

"He'll make fun of me tomorrow for having such an elegant woman asking for me," Yasu said, mock-mournfully, and Hoshiyo colored with pleasure.

A sudden clap of thunder made the two of them turned equally startled eyes on each other; the sky was cloudy, but not ominously so, yet that soon proved to be misleading. Before Yasu could even open his mouth to suggest that they hurry indoors, a torrent of rain burst over them. Within moments, they were drenched.

Yasu fumbled with his suit jacket, intending to give it to Hoshiyo, and then nearly dropped it a moment later. The rain had plastered Hoshiyo's dress to her body, the light pink bodice gone nearly translucent with water. Hoshiyo followed Yasu's gaze downwards, to where the fabric clung damply to a chest too flat to belong to any woman, a sick look of dawning realization filling her eyes.

"No!" Yasu said, only realizing after he'd spoken that she--_he_\--had tensed in preparation for flight.

Hoshiyo flinched.

"No," Yasu said more gently. "It's okay, I promise. You're cold and wet, and my house is just down the road. Will you come with me?"

"I wanted to be a pretty modern girl for you," Hoshiyo said, his voice thick with tears that Yasu hadn't seen for the rain streaming down his face.

"You were, you were," Yasu soothed. "But now you're a very shivering and wet modern girl, and I think you need some tea and some dry clothes. All right?"

Hoshiyo bit his lip, peering at Yasu's face through rain-tipped eyelashes, and then nodded hesitantly. "All right," he said.

"Good," Yasu said, placing his jacket over Hoshiyo's shoulders and then taking his arm. Hoshiyo startled a little, but didn't pull away. "The path will be slippery in your high heels," he explained, and Hoshiyo nodded again, letting Yasu take part of his weight on the muddier stretches.

Though the storm had brought a cold wave of air with it, the house was still snug and warm. Yasu hurried to get several towels while Hoshiyo was struggling to undo the buckles on his high heels. "Here you go," he said, placing them beside Hoshiyo. "I'll start the stove. It's only me here, so it's never lit during the day."

He turned back to the small kitchen, though he could hear rustling noises behind him that indicated Hoshiyo had taken the hint and was stripping right there in the entryway with no fear of being seen.

"Is there somewhere I could hang my clothes?" Hoshiyo asked a little later.

"Just bring them here. They'll dry faster by the stove."

Hoshiyo shuffled over on light feet. Yasu turned to take the rain-soaked dress and stockings from him and found himself staring. Hoshiyo without his women's clothes was still lovely, but also very obviously male: his shoulders too broad for femininity, his arms lightly muscled. Hoshiyo shivered suddenly, either as a result of his recent drenching or as a result of the scrutiny, and Yasu shook himself out of his daze.

"Let me take those," he said. He held out his hands, and Hoshiyo passed the clothes over to him, then wrapped his arms around himself, holding his towel tight to his chest. Yasu hung the clothes to dry and went into the bedroom to find a yukata.

When he returned, Hoshiyo was huddled by the stove, still shivering occasionally. "Here," Yasu said, handing over the yukata, and busied himself with setting the table, giving Hoshiyo his privacy once again.

"You don't seem surprised," Hoshiyo said, a minute or two later, his voice pitched low.

"Oh, I'm _definitely_ surprised," Yasu said. "You were very believable. It never even occurred to me that you might not be a woman."

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Yasu said briskly. "Are you warmer now? I could get you a blanket."

"No, thank you," Hoshiyo said.

"You should sit down, at least."

Hoshiyo looked at the table, then took a seat, his hands folded in his lap. Yasu pretended not to notice his obvious discomfort and chattered about the neighborhood children, a new restaurant that had opened three streets over, how quickly the leaves were changing colors...anything he could think of to fill the silence. The water came to a boil, and he prepared the tea and handed a cup to Hoshiyo.

Hoshiyo held it carefully, his eyes staring down into the tea almost blankly. Yasu didn't push him to drink it; he just poured his own tea and took a seat at the table. After a long moment, Hoshiyo raised his cup to his lips. They drank in silence and listened to the rain hitting the roof in a series of staccato notes.

When Hoshiyo had finished the cup, he set it down on the table with a soft sigh. "Thank you," he said. "You've been very kind."

"It's not kindness to drink tea with you," Yasu disagreed.

The half-smile on Hoshiyo's face wavered a little, and then he said, "Even so. I do appreciate everything you've done for me."

There was an air of finality to the statement, and Yasu felt a jolt of urgency. "You could repay me by agreeing to come for tea again next week," he suggested, and the smile finally dropped off Hoshiyo's face entirely, replaced by a look of utter astonishment.

"You'd like to see me again?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

Hoshiyo blinked. "Because. I'm not who you thought I was."

"I thought that you were an incredible actress and my friend," Yasu said. "Neither of those has changed, as far as _I'm_ concerned."

Hoshiyo blinked again, this time to try to contain the tears that suddenly filled his eyes.

"Here," Yasu said, fishing his handkerchief out of his pocket, only to realize at the last moment that it was soaked with the rain. "Or, I mean, wait just a second." He stood to fetch a fresh handkerchief, but Hoshiyo's hand on his arm stayed him.

"It's all right," Hoshiyo said. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Just give me a moment."

Yasu sat down again.

Finally, Hoshiyo wiped his eyes once more and cleared his throat. "My name's Uchi Hiroki," he said.

"Yasuda Shota," Yasu said automatically, then blushed at having introduced himself to someone he'd known a month.

Uchi didn't laugh at him, though; he just looked at him from under his eyelashes and smiled. "I'm pleased to meet you."

* * *

Yasu had wondered if, the next time he saw Uchi in a kimono, he'd only be able to see the man and not the woman that he'd first met. Instead, he found that he had the opposite problem. It was initially a struggle to remember that Hoshiyo was the man who had sat at Yasu's table in a borrowed yukata; the man who, underneath the padded kimono, had a slim, masculine body and shoulders almost as broad as Yasu's.

Other things were much easier, as when he could invite Uchi to his home without fear of having his intentions misunderstood. He could also talk to Uchi about his experiences as a performer in the Takarazuka Revue without giving offense, even when he discussed rather indelicate subjects.

"Don't you have to change in the same room with the other actresses?" Yasu wondered aloud once. "How could they not notice?"

Uchi turned a little pink. "You do have to tuck..." He trailed off, and it took a minute before Yasu understood what he was trying to say and burst into giggles. Uchi's blush deepened, but he brought a hand over his mouth to hide his own laughter. "So, you see, there are ways," he concluded.

"Still. You're a braver man than I'll ever be," Yasu said.

"Not so brave," Uchi disagreed. "Just selfish. I always do what I want, and I don't think about other people."

"Other people like your parents?" Yasu asked, recognizing that particular self-deprecating tone, and Uchi bit his lip and nodded. "Well, you're still young. You're only, what, sixteen?"

"Seventeen," Uchi said.

"Seventeen, then. You have more than enough time to beg their forgiveness later. Just don't be like me; I become a less and less dutiful son every year," he confessed, thinking of his mother's hints that he ought to find a wife, his father's disappointment at not yet having a grandson.

Fortunately, Uchi didn't seem to notice the serious tone underlying Yasu's thoughts. He smiled appreciatively and nodded, and Yasu hoped that he took the words to heart. Youth was the time to burn brightly, not to dwell on minor sins with needless regret.

* * *

"I got you something," Yasu said, when they'd finished the pastries Uchi had brought from a bakery. He fetched the box from the table across the room, feeling a wave of warmth rush through him when Uchi looked at him with a surprised, pleased look on his face.

"Thank you," Uchi said, taking the small box from him.

"You don't have to open it now," Yasu added hastily, but Uchi had already lifted the lid of the box and taken out the brassiere, imported from England, that Yasu had bought for him.

A heavy silence fell over the room as the two of them stared at Uchi's hands, gently twisting the bit of fabric and lace. "Do you want me to put it on?" Uchi asked, frowning a little, his face turning dull red with embarrassment.

Yasu's eyes widened. "No, no," he said, shaking his hand in quick negation. "It's not for... I just thought you might want something so that you could wear Western clothes and not have to worry about...you know."

"Oh." Uchi bit his lip, still staring down at the brassiere, and then tucked it back into the box. "Thank you."

"I didn't mean to offend you," Yasu said desperately.

"You didn't," Uchi said. "It's a lovely gift."

"It's nothing, really."

Uchi smiled, though it looked a bit strained at the edges. "Would you like some more tea?" he asked, and Yasu let him take his cup to refill it.

The rest of the afternoon's conversation was as easy and pleasant as ever, and it wasn't until Uchi had said his farewells that Yasu felt that panicked uncertainty again in the pit of his stomach, not knowing if Uchi had meant any of his kind, beautiful words, or had merely mouthed them out of courtesy for their friendship. There was nothing to be done for it now, in either case. He blinked away the tears prickling in his eyes and scrubbed a little harder at a tea stain on one of his cups.

* * *

The next Sunday, Yasu answered the door to find Uchi standing on the other side in a smart white and black checked dress. The black and pink ribbon on his wide-brimmed straw hat matched the pink purse he clutched in one hand. Yasu couldn't help but trace Uchi's figure with his eyes, skimming over the gentle curve from chest to waist to hip, and ending with slim legs in seamed black stockings and the same high-heeled shoes that Uchi had worn on his first visit to Yasu's house.

"I'm wearing your gift," Uchi confided a little breathlessly, leaning close, and Yasu bit back an embarrassing squeak.

He tried to regain his composure as Uchi turned away from him to take off his shoes and step into house slippers, though Yasu had a sinking feeling that he was only moderately successful at the attempt. And then any composure he'd manage to draw together was quickly dispersed by Uchi's next move.

As soon as he'd finished dealing with his shoes, he leaned in again and pressed his lips to Yasu's in a soft kiss. Yasu froze in shock. After a moment, Uchi pulled back, his face bright pink, but with a determined set to his mouth.

"I can make it so that you can't even tell the difference," he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. "You can imagine that I'm really Hoshiyo; I could--"

Yasu's throat hurt suddenly, and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. "Please don't," he said.

"Oh." The blood drained out of Uchi's face so suddenly that Yasu was concerned he might faint. "I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have presumed--"

Yasu shook his hand in quick denial, cutting him off. "No, no. The presumption isn't the problem. It's just, I don't want you to pretend for me."

"I'm an _actor_," Uchi said, sounding equal parts confused and miserable. "That's what I _do_."

"But not with me." Yasu's hands shook slightly as he reached for the buttons of Uchi's bodice. He could feel Uchi's chest rise and fall under his fingers as he breathed quickly but shallowly. The only other sound that Yasu could register was that of his own heart, pounding in his ears.

When he'd undone every button, he pushed Uchi's dress gently off his shoulders and then paused, uncertain of how to continue. "I've never actually taken a brassiere off before," he confessed.

The small frown lines that creased the bridge of Uchi's nose still hadn't gone away, but he twisted his arms behind his back as Yasu watched breathlessly. A moment later, Uchi took off the brassiere and held it for a moment in one hand before finally dropping it on the floor. He looked unreal and utterly beautiful: his long hair spilling over his bare shoulders, his lipstick smeared from their previous kiss.

He wouldn't meet Yasu's eyes, though, and his lower lip was quivering a little. Slowly, carefully, Yasu leaned in for another kiss, tilting Uchi's face up to meet him. Uchi's mouth was soft and responsive even in his confusion. Yasu placed his hands carefully on Uchi's shoulders and slid them downwards over the planes of his chest. One finger rubbed over a small, tight nipple, and Uchi gasped.

Yasu shivered and brushed against the nipple again, deliberately this time. He pulled away from the kiss to whisper, "The futon's in the other room."

"Yes," Uchi said, after just enough time had passed that Yasu had begun to worry that he might have changed his mind. "Yes, please."

Yasu grinned and took one of Uchi's hands in his own. The dress nearly slid to the floor as Uchi stepped forward, but he caught it and clutched it to his waist. Yasu didn't suggest leaving it there, although the thought crossed his mind. Instead, he led the way to his bedroom and pulled back the covers on his bed.

Uchi stood beside him hesitantly, and Yasu climbed into bed still in his yukata, not wanting to push him too far or too quickly. A moment later, Uchi slid into bed beside him. His skirt bunched up around his thighs like a crumpled water lily, and Yasu stared at him for long enough that Uchi began to blush.

"What is it?" he asked.

Yasu shook his head. "You make me forget to breathe sometimes," he said, embarrassed himself at admitting to such a romantic sentiment.

Uchi's eyes shone with a sudden and suspicious brightness, his cheeks flushing an even deeper pink, and Yasu leaned down to kiss him, drawing the covers up over them both.


End file.
